


Vengeance

by Elevensins



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, Why You Don't Mess With Dotharl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 04:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12809625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elevensins/pseuds/Elevensins
Summary: The knife thunking into the wood next to him almost didn’t register, it was so utterly outside the scope of his normal existence.  He stared at it a moment, blinking in surprise, noticing the hand holding its handle bore glinting scales along the back of it.He knew that hand.  He remembered the scar there, a hole the size of his dagger perfectly placed.  No longer bright with blood, but shriveled and puckered, a permanent reminder to its owner of his power.





	Vengeance

The city of Ul’dah never slept. Long after markets had closed their tents, unfurled curtains to cover their stalls. Long after the sun cast final rays of crimson and gold on limestone walls, warm light emanated from within the city’s walls. The streets might have emptied, save for the refugees vying for spaces imbetween, but the party continued.

Laughter and the din of conversation reverberated off the darkened hallways. Sconces along the wall flickered, shadows long and lean. He wouldn’t hear her footfalls, though if he paid attention he might have seen the glint of limbal rings, bright gold and blue in the darkness. 

But Sisisapi Hahasapi wasn’t in the mood to seek nuance outside the counting chamber where his eyes poured over the parchments in front of him. Ledgers of business transactions written in a code only he and a handful of very trusted individuals in the organization would understand. Money laundered, money changed hands with cutthroats and brothel madams. The sort of transactions the Sultana frowned on. If she, or anyone else, were to peruse the documents they would only see boring accounts of dry goods and fabric.

The chronometer above the fireplace announced the time, late enough to make Sisisapi look up finally. The party down the hall and up the stairs would be winding down, dancing girls escorting his esteemed guests back to their bedrooms. Secrets to steal, a commodity as rich as trade goods. 

The knife thunking into the wood next to him almost didn’t register, it was so utterly outside the scope of his normal existence. He stared at it a moment, blinking in surprise, noticing the hand holding its handle bore glinting scales along the back of it. 

He knew that hand. He remembered the scar there, a hole the size of his dagger perfectly placed. No longer bright with blood, but shriveled and puckered, a permanent reminder to its owner of his power.

Despite the normal heat of Ul’dah, he felt cold suddenly, frozen in his seat. Locks of steel blue hair curtained his peripheral vision as the knife holder lowered her head. Dark blue lips, thin and narrow and not at all the plush sort he preferred in his dancing girls, curled up into a half-smile.

“Still trying to be another Lolorito, Sisi?” she asked.

Finally his wits returned to him. He scrambled to grab whatever was in front of him, which happened to be parchment, ink and quill, and toss them at her while he fled from his seat. She was faster, of course she was. She was too thin, too pointed to be as good as the other dancers at attracting clientele but she was fast. 

Another knife thunked into the desk, blocking his path. He looked up, and she wasn’t smiling anymore. 

“Guards!” he yelled as loud as he could. He understood how fruitless it was, but what else was there to do? If she were here, then likely any of his men were lying outside the door already, lifeless. “Guards! Attend to me!”

She grasped his hair by the little ponytail he wore it in, jerking his head back. Her face lowered to his, until they were nearly nose to nose. He could smell blood on her, yes his guards were most definitely dead. She reeked of blood and steel and violence. 

“I can make it worth your while to let me live, Ghoa. You know my worth.” It was all he could think of, buying his way out as he had so many other matters. She was a woman of wealth now, his little birds had informed him. Another rags to riches story, from a mediocre dancing girl to the mistress of an upstart conglomerate. It’s why she was here, after all. He’d casually decided to have her assassinated as she now encroached on some of his markets. Clearly the assassin had failed.

She paused, eyes narrowing as if pondering this. Yanking one of the knives from the mahogany desk, she ran the tip of it along his cheek thoughtfully. He drew in a shaky breath.

“I hear you have your own monetary empire to carve now. Perhaps… I can be of some use to you. I’ve been doing this a long time, you know.”

“Oh,” she said in a soft hiss, “Forget everything and ally myself with you, hmm?”

“An alliance would be most amenable, I would think. You’re new, there is so much I could teach you.”

The knife bit into his cheek and he gasped, feeling blood rushing forth. She slashed the other cheek in quick succession. 

“I think not. Your sort of business doesn’t interest me.” 

The knife slammed down into his hand, right in the middle, pinned to the desk. He screamed, but she slipped a hand around his mouth and muffled most of it, letting the Lalafell whimper into her palm.

“This is a warning, Sisi. I don’t hire thugs to do my dirty work for me. I see to things… personally. The next time you send one of your men after me, you’ll have a hole in your heart, not just your hand.”

The hand slipped away and suddenly she was gone, back to the shadows that carried her into his stronghold. Leaving him to pry the knife loose on his own, and tend to his wounds.

**Author's Note:**

> Written while listening to Vengeance by Zack Hemsey.


End file.
